


She was a bit of an Original groupie...

by sicklyscribe



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, a forgotten Icon, all the mikaelsons wanted to keep her forever, because of course it is, klaus/bekah is woven in here too, the OG OG needs more content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 05:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15879063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicklyscribe/pseuds/sicklyscribe
Summary: A party at the Mikaelson residence.There's just something about Mary.





	She was a bit of an Original groupie...

It was raucous, rancid revelry – blood was the beginning and end. As the floor stained that deep dark orange of violence no one cared to hide, screams started and turned to laugher… or was it the other way ‘round?

Amidst the throng of ne’er-do-wells, a human leads her sister.

“Why do they call this room the banquet hall?” the younger asks, marveling at the lavish trappings of what definitely appeared to be a ballroom.

Before the elder sister can answer, a tinkling laugh peals over the din. A golden-haired lady gazed languidly; amusedly, at the pair – her eyes were the sweetest, softest blue, but they were unnerving in the most predatory of ways. It seemed she would have been too far from the women to hear the comment, but her smile is unmistakable.

Struck by her own obvious naiveté, the younger woman recoiled, eyes downcast, blushing red beneath her powdered cheeks. But suddenly a gentle hand lifted her face by her chin, and there – how could she have walked so quickly, so silently? – the laughing woman nearly glowed before her.

Fighting the urge to curtsy, for this woman was so richly dressed she must be of great standing, the poor girl was forced to look into those blithe blue eyes. She found she was trembling, and could not place why.

The fair lady took on a cloyingly pitying expression, and leaned in to whisper in the young girl’s ear, her bright lips brushing against her curls, her breath hot and tickling against her skin, “ _We like to have our feast on display._ ”

A shriek began and ended in a pathetic instant, as the girl felt pricks at her throat, hearing only her own thundering heartbeat as her lifeblood spilled into a greedy mouth. Her sister fell backwards in a faint as men and women danced around them, for the music had not stopped, screams were part of this song.

Another laugh bounced over the crowd, and as the lavish lady lapped her fill, two dancers spun to greet her. “Sweet Lady Mary,” drawled a drunken, mirthful voice. A fine gentleman with a face full of mischief watched the life drain from the young woman’s sightless eyes. His own dark eyes were more than just mischievous, though – they were malicious, in the merriest of ways.

At his arm stood a woman every bit as fair and lovely as the one who now drank, glittering with treasures from every corner of the world, with a smile that proved she’d seen the lot of it – and wasn’t much impressed.

When Mary had finished her drink, she held the girl by her neck and glanced at the pair as her blood-black eyes turned once more to blue. “A bit too sweet for my taste,” she shrugged, inclining the neck towards them. “Rebekah, darling, I think you would love her.”

The other blond grinned wider, and gracefully – every move she made was graceful – settled herself beside the one called Mary. The two girls (they looked so  _young_ , and yet, they  _didn’t_ …) eyed each other wickedly, and with the faintest touch, Rebekah swept away the blood from the corner of Mary’s lips. Sucking on her index finger indulgently, Rebekah felt her fangs coming in. She heard the flutter of blood gathering around her eyes against the pounding, weakening heartbeat of the bleeding girl in front of her. With a flourish of her tongue, she sunk her teeth into the bite that Mary had left.

“Do I not like sweet things, then?” the man spoke once more, with a tinge of offense in his voice that walked the line between sarcasm and sincerity.

Rebekah hummed pleasantly as Mary looked over her shoulder at the man who had spoken, meeting his wild eyes with a fire of her own.

“No, Kol, you like  _me_.”

“Oh, but darling, I remember how very  _sweet_ you can be.”

There’s a slurping sound, and a giggle, as Rebekah drops the drained corpse on the ground and looks mockingly at Kol. “Stop trying to be subtle, brother, it does not become you.”

The two blondes exchanged tittering whispers, cheek to cheek, blood-red lips brushing skin, as Kol’s gaze became jealous.

He leaned down, snapped the neck of the sister who had fainted, and stalked off with the corpse dragging behind him.

Mary watched him leave, knowing he must be truly in poor spirits to not even have wont to play with his food, but Rebekah put a hand to her shoulder and led her through the dancing crowd. “Let him pout, love, you’ve been doing so very well with your fifty-year-cold-shoulder vow to ruin it with but a decade to go. You know he deserves it after leaving you so cruelly.”

They walked hand in hand to the dais, taking their seats each at their own personal sorts of thrones. Two remarkably handsome men, one of gold curls, the other of brown, stood in conversation, presumably concerning the bottle of dark liquid in the blond one’s hands. They took notice of the ladies instantly – instinctually – and the darker one traded a cold glance with Mary before excusing himself from the room.

Meanwhile, Rebekah gave the fairer man the most vicious of glares, which he returned with a shrug and an innocent smirk. In hundreds of years of un-life, Rebekah had never seen eyes a darker blue. They teased her now, with the hint of derision that only she could detect.

“Lord Niklaus,” Mary called to him, with steel and honey in her tone, “Pray, let Rebekah alone.”

“Now, Mary,” the man purred, every sound from his mouth as rich and ominous – and beautiful – as a wolf’s howl. His brows rose, the picture of guiltlessness, as Rebekah practically spat at his approach. “I have yet to trade a single word with my dear sister this whole week’s-end.” His full red lips fell into a pout, and yet he remained ever still the animalistic Adonis, the predator’s perfection. “I’ve been feeling quite neglected as of late, truth be told.”

Rebekah lunged, but Mary caught her, and Klaus smiled all the while as his sister’s growl rang in his ears. “Go, darling,” Mary whispered, righting Rebekah’s curls. “I will deal with the beast. I promise. He does not deserve your reaction.”

Rebekah heard her own words echoed in her friend’s, squeezing her hand in thanks, and contained her boiling rage long enough to speed away from the dais.

“A beast, am I?” Niklaus said, trying to maintain his joking tone, trying to hide how deep that term still cut him.

Mary stalked closer to him, touching the tip of his clean-shaven chin before trailing down the sleeve of his doublet. She cocked her head just enough to let the pulse of her jugular show through her skin, licking the last of the human girl’s blood from her lips.

He was still on the offensive, she could tell, but his gaze darkened as it followed the swipe of her tongue and the curve of her smile. “I didn’t say a  _beast_  was a bad thing, did I?”

His eyes narrowed, taking her in with every ounce of his paranoid mind. “Lady Mary,” he said lowly, and now she was watching  _his_  lips, “how quickly you jump from one brother’s lap to the next.”

Now it was her turn to raise her brow. “Your family doesn’t exactly play fair,” she whined with a sigh. “What magic lies there in the New World, that all its children grow so beautiful?”

Finally, he leaned closer to her. She could smell him – oh, it was a familiar smell! – but she had not been near him in so many, many years. “We were birthed on wild soil, love,” he said softly with a chillingly charming glimmer in his eye, just barely stroking the shell of her hear before leaning further to whisper ever so softly – “ _and I the wildest of them all._ ”

“Oh, Nik,” she breathed the name, the name he only allowed from siblings or lovers… she had not called him so in seventy-two years, “I remember.” She let her breath ghost over his own ear before continuing:

“But should you torture Rebekah  _still_ , after already eating her lover… I’m afraid I shall never have cause to revisit those…  _fond_ … memories.”

She pressed her lips against his earlobe, a joke of a kiss, and pulled away from him. “It’s a shame,” she pouted – and her pout far outmatched his own – “ _Nik._ ”

With a flutter of her lashes, and a regal turn of her head, Mary scanned the crowd for Rebekah.

Dark eyes were on her from across the room. So he had not left the room, after all. She felt herself take in a quick breath as Elijah’s cold ( _it was once so very, very warm_ ) visage stood out to her in the throng, a statue among daises, a hawk among sparrows. He was so striking, so strong, she felt that delicious pull towards him. But she could not follow it now.

They had been such a pair, both gay and cunning, entirely loving… but she had grown so restless, and he so terribly dark. She had been suffocating, and he struggling, for far longer than need be.

He had found her in her bed with a human – the same human – twice.

They could no longer pretend at being a couple. But she saw his dark, jealous eyes on her and her blood ran hot. She heard Klaus’ frustrated breathing a few steps away, she could smell the blood spilling in the tower bedroom where Kol was having his fill… she could hear Rebekah flirting irresistibly with what had to be a handsome meal.

She wanted them all.

And she wanted them unconditionally.

 

* * *

 

Written for a "Mikaelsons x groupies" prompt given to me by the winners of a raffle I did a while back. I chose to nix the second plural and write the most important groupie of them all. Originally posted [here.](http://sicklyscribe.tumblr.com/post/129229521001/raffle-drabble-scary-mary)


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